The Sheep Have to Be Fed

In the Carpathian Mountains 

In western Ukraine

The Hutsul people say 

They are not going anywhere, 

Period.  Putin be damned.

The Hutsul people wake every morning

As they have for centuries

To feed the sheep their people have fed

With the grasses that grow around them 

In the Carpathian Mountains

Where they have withstood invasions 

From Poles, Lithuanians, 

Magyars, and Mongols

For centuries.

The sheep have to be fed.

So you get up, you feed them.

When summer comes,

You shear them.

When autumn comes, 

You spin their wool into yarn.

At winter, you weave the blankets

That tell your ancient story,

And you sing while you weave.

The fibers of the blanket vibrate

With your voice.

When you wash the blanket in the river, 

The river’s voice adds itself to the story,

And the sheep stand in silent witness.

That’s how it goes.

The story is the main thing

Along with the fiber of every being.

You offer the story from your land

On Etsy, and the world wants it.  

Blanket after blanket,  you tell the story

From your high ground,

Weaving diamonds

That symbolize the sun,

The all-seeing eye of truth,

The art of being who you are,

Of staying put.